Qiu Xiaolong - Death of a Red Heroine

“She was a national model worker, thirty-one years old, single, who had worked in the store for more than ten years. A Party member, of course.”

“What! A national model worker-Oh now I remember,” Chen said. “Thank you. We appreciate your help, comrade. Contact us when you have any new information.” In spite of his morning headache, Chen began to feel more hopeful than he had for a long time. Shanghai First was the largest department store in the city. A handful of security men in plainclothes were stationed there. While their main job was to deal with shoplifters, they knew how to gather information.

Sure enough, before lunchtime more information rolled in. The dead woman’s identity was confirmed. Her dental records matched her medical history. Guan Hongying, thirty-one, unmarried, head of the cosmetics section, Party member for eleven years, national model worker and attendant at the Party’s Ninth and Tenth Congresses. She had left home on May tenth for vacation and had since contacted no one.

At one o’clock, Chen got the first picture of Guan from a courier. Then the fax machine received a dozen more, as well as a huge amount of writing about her. Most of the pictures were clippings from newspapers and magazines. And all the writings were propaganda, about her commitment to her work, her noble spirit in serving the people, and her selfless dedication to the communist cause-all the familiar rhetoric of the Party’s newspapers. As he read on, Chief Inspector Chen had second thoughts about taking the case. The rape and murder of a national model worker! Such a case, if solved, might still be hushed up for political considerations, but if it were not solved, political pressure could be expected from higher authorities. Still, he started to put some data together for a new case report. NAME: Guan, Hongying DATE OF BIRTH: December 11, 1958 RACE: Han ADDRESS: Lane, Number 18, Lane 235, Hubei Rd. (Dormitory of the First Department Store) STATUS: Single OCCUPATION: Cadre (Head of cosmetics section, Party member, National Model Worker) NEXT OF KIN: (mother, Alzheimer’s patient in Ankang Nursing Home) WORK HISTORY: From 1979 to 1990

At five thirty, an emergency meeting was called in the Number 3 Conference Room of the Shanghai Police Bureau. The meeting was presided over with exacting authority by Party Secretary Li, a stout man in his late fifties, whose face was dominated by the heavy bags under his eyes. He sat upright at the head of the long oak desk. Chen arrived first. Yu came to sit beside him. Sitting at the other end of the table, Commissar Zhang Zhiqiang made an unexpected appearance. A man of Zhang’s high rank did not have to attend such a meeting. Nor was he a member of the special case squad.

“Thank you for coming, Commissar Zhang,” Party Secretary Li said, paying his tribute to the old man before he started his speech.

Commissar Zhang had joined the Party in the early forties and received an 11th ranking in the system after 1949. Party Secretary Li, on the other hand, had become a Party member in the fifties, so his ranking was much lower. As always, Chen greeted Commissar Zhang respectfully. Zhang did not think too well of Chen, and on several occasions had come close to labeling him a liberal.

“This is a case of paramount political importance, comrades,” Party Secretary Li began. “That’s why we are having the meeting today. The mayor himself has just telephoned. He believes that it could be a serious political case. This is his instruction to us: ‘Do your best, and solve the case as soon as possible. The city government is behind your work. Hold no press conferences. Do not reveal any details concerning her death’.”

Chen was amazed. The dead woman had been somebody, her name frequently mentioned in newspapers, her image often seen on TV, but she had not been so important that the mayor himself should have made a call to the bureau, and so soon.

“But it’s a homicide case,” Detective Yu said.

The Party Secretary went on, “Comrades, we must realize, Comrade Guan could have been murdered out of political considerations. She was a well-known role model for the whole country-her tragic death is a significant loss to our Party, and a symbolic blow to the public security of our socialist society.”

The Party Secretary was going too far, Chen reflected. As a party official, Li did not know much about homicide. But then, that might be the very reason Li, rather than anybody else, was the Party secretary; he was capable of seeing politics in everything.

“Besides, the way she was so brutally murdered could damage the pure image of our great Party.”

That part was not difficult to accept. Chen nodded. The Party authorities would like very much to hush up the sensational details. The picture of National Model Worker Guan’s naked body, violated and strangled, would contradict the hallowed image of a model worker fully dressed in a gray Mao suit.

Chen thought he saw an almost imperceptible smile on Yu’s face.

“So, a special case group is to be formed. Chief Inspector Chen will be in charge of it. And Detective Yu is Chen’s assistant. In addition, Commissar Zhang will be the adviser for the investigation.”

“What if it is just a homicide case?” Yu asked doggedly.

“If it turns out to be no more than a homicide case, we’ll solve it, too, of course. We just need to keep our minds open. The group will have a special budget. If more men are needed, Chief Inspector Chen can ask me.”

That, Chen thought, was perhaps the secret of Li’s success. Full of political nonsense, but not unaware of being so. So Li never forgot to add a few not-so-political words, words that made a little sense. That made Li somewhat different from other Party cadres.

Party Secretary Li was concluding his speech: “As you all know, this case has some sensitive aspects. It calls for a careful approach. So keep all information from the press. Anything that can lead to unnecessary speculation will not help our investigation.”

“I’ve got your point, Comrade Party Secretary.” Chen spoke for the first time. “With Comrade Commissar Zhang as our adviser, we will do our best and solve the case.”

After the meeting, Chen stayed on with Li, alone.

“I want you to do a good job,” Li said. “It may be a difficult case, but a successful conclusion will come to the attention of higher authorities.”

“I understand, but Commissar Zhang-” Chen did not finish the sentence.

Zhang was generally considered the most orthodox Party commissar in the bureau, a political hard-liner of the older generation.

“Commissar Zhang has reached the age for retirement,” Li said, “but what with inflation, and with the rising standard of living, it can be difficult for anyone to live on his pension alone. So the Party authorities have come up with a new regulation for the old comrades. They have to retire in accordance with the cadre retirement policy, no question about it, but as long as they remain in good health, they can do some secondary work appropriate to their age. In that way, they may still enjoy their full pay. ‘Adviser’ is an honorary position-he’ll just give advice or suggestions. You have full authority as the head of the group.”

“So what shall we do with him?”

“Just keep him informed about the investigation.”

“Ah well, I see.” Chen sighed.

Chen saw only too clearly what he was in for: four or five calls from the commissar as a daily routine, not to mention the necessity of listening to Zhang’s long lectures larded with quotations from Mao, Deng, or The People’s Daily, and the necessity of suppressing frequent yawns.

“It’s not that bad. At least he is an incorruptible commissar.”

Depending on one’s perspective, that was a good point-or a bad one.